


Clean

by storiesfortravellers



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: BFFs, Bathing/Washing, Community: kink_bingo, Coulson is a good handler, F/M, Gen, Platonic Relationship, Post-Mission, hair-washing, shower, showering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-14
Updated: 2012-08-14
Packaged: 2017-11-12 03:14:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/486037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesfortravellers/pseuds/storiesfortravellers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In answer to this prompt at avengerkink:<i> "I would love to see some non-sexual (not even established relationship) showering or bathing between friends, where they're so tired and worn out, sore muscles, maybe a few cuts, each person unable to hold themselves up alone. Together they can get clean and take comfort in each other, totally past the point of caring that they're naked and touching each other. Any two (or more) characters, but if there's a woman involved I'd love to see hair-washing."</i></p><p>With good!handler!Coulson there (but not in the shower).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clean

Clint and Natasha leaned on each other as they stumbled out of the carrier back into Headquarters. Coulson was steps behind them, probably making sure they didn’t collapse on SHIELD property.

Tough mission.

Physically tough. And the other way too.

Clint had been awake for 48 hours, and he was barely keeping his eyes open enough to walk straight. Natasha, he knew, had been up even longer, probably three days. He didn’t know how she was even remotely herself. 

They steadied each other as they walked down the hallway, covered in sweat and grime and whatever else was in the tunnel they had to crawl through.

There was also blood on them. Not theirs. 

The few SHIELD agents there that late gave them a quick stare but then quickly pretended all was normal. Clint couldn’t tell if they were afraid to offer to help them -- which would be justified, since Clint and Natasha could help each other but it wouldn’t go well for anyone else who implied that they couldn’t walk on their own – or if the other agents were just disgusted by how they looked.

Fear. Disgust. Two things Clint and Natasha were too tired to care about, even when they weren’t sleep-deprived.

“Hit the showers,” Coulson said softly as they neared the training section. “I’ll set up a couple of cots in my office.” 

They nodded gratefully. Coulson’s office was in the main building, just an elevator ride up from the shower rooms. Their bunks were in the residence building on the far end of the sprawling Headquarters property.

They went to the men’s showers – the closer one. It was empty, gray. They stepped apart to start taking their clothes off, and it was slow, difficult, the fabric matted to their skin with grime and blood. Natasha leaned against the wall to keep herself standing.

Clint’s shirt got caught on one of the hooks he used for spare weapons, and Natasha helped to pull it free. She started to walk over to the shower nozzle still wearing her boots and socks, but Clint stopped her, knelt down to pull them off while Natasha closed her eyes, as if those extra four seconds of sleep could help her.

They turned on the water and then they stood there, perfectly still. 

Warmth. Finally. After a shitty night and a shitty mission and no sleep for days, they were finally feeling something warm.

They leaned on each other. Natasha was more at an angle and so they managed to find an equilibrium, balancing each other out like two sides of an arch so that neither actually had to put too much of an effort into standing. They stayed like that for a long time, letting the water run down, letting it take their day away.

Clint thought he might have actually fell asleep standing for a minute there. 

He opened his eyes and saw Natasha, her eyes closed as well. He wondered if he should care that she was naked, if he should feel something deeper stir at feeling the softness of her skin, slick with hot water. 

Maybe on another day he would. They weren’t like that, the two of them. But he wasn’t dead, and she was damn beautiful, not to mention the smartest person he knew and the only one he really trusted. 

Maybe when his brain started working again, he would care that they were naked and holding each other. 

Probably it would just be another day at the office.

Natasha moved then, using her hands to wipe off the dirt still caked on her shoulder, and Clint slowly moved a hand up to help. He rubbed at the blood stain on her thigh until it fell away.

She made a tired gesture for him to turn around then. He felt her hands on his back, scrubbing away the crap that he couldn’t see and couldn’t reach. It felt good. Not as good as sleep would. But good.

She stopped and he turned around, rubbing his own chest and arms to try and finish. She leaned back so that the stream of water hit her hair, and she rubbed her fingers through it to get her hair wet faster. 

Clint’s hair had been cleaned enough just from standing there for a few minutes, but at this particular moment, he thought it must suck to have longer hair. 

Natasha looked at the shampoo bottle in the corner but then just closed her eyes and stood there. Clint knew that her hair wasn’t clean, knew that she hated not being clean. She had shot someone at point blank range and crawled through a sewage tunnel, and hair didn’t get clean that fast.

Clint walked over and brought back the shampoo bottle and poured some in his hand. 

“I can do it,” Natasha mumbled but made no motion toward the bottle. 

“Come on, Tasha. Let’s get it done so we can go to bed,” he said softly, asking.

She paused, then nodded, and he slowly worked his fingers into her hair. He could smell the scent of the shampoo as it permeated the shower, and soon the shampoo felt smooth and lathery as his fingers moved through her strands. He was careful, not pulling on her hair but rubbing her hair tightly between his fingers to really get everything out. They held each other up again as they stood under the shower stream, the water rinsing out her hair and streaming down onto both their shoulders as they embraced.

When it was done they turned the shower off and grabbed SHIELD tees and sweatpants from the clean pile that was kept stocked. The shower had woken them just enough that they almost approached normal but slow walking as they headed toward Coulson’s office. 

They got there and he opened the door for them, wished them a good night, and left them alone. 

Clint smiled as he saw what Coulson had left for them. Chicken and dumpling soup for Natasha. Hot apple cobbler for Clint. The only foods that they liked too much to say no to. The only foods they would stay awake to eat.

Shit. They hadn’t eat in… who even knows.

They sat and ate, scarfing with little concern for manners. Short minutes later they collapsed on their cots.

Clint found himself having unusually strong feelings for his pillow.

Natasha was there – he could hear her breathing and she was safe, and he was safe, and they were in a secure location, and the taste of cinnamon apples lingered on his tongue. And his head was on a pillow. 

The day could go to hell. This right here was all he needed.

“Night, Tasha,” he mumbled as he fell like a brick into sleep.

She mumbled good night in Russian; it was the last thing either of them heard until they woke up the next morning.


End file.
